


Clouds that Break

by Peanutbutterer



Category: Justified
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-19
Updated: 2011-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 14:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanutbutterer/pseuds/Peanutbutterer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tag for 1.12 (Fathers and Sons)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clouds that Break

She married Raylan on a cloudy day in September - wind whipping her dress across her knees and tangling her hair. The sky opened up halfway through the ceremony and released a downpour that soaked her to the bone.

She used to sit on the edge of their bed, fingers twisted, haloed by the porch light filtering in from sun-bleached curtains and think that she should have seen that storm as a sign - that she should have seen it coming.

She married Gary on a cloudless day in the middle of June. She can still smell the freshly cut grass and feel the warmth of the afternoon sun.

She realizes now ( _too little, too late_ ) that weather can't predict for shit.

\--

Winona's never thought of herself as perfect. She has manicured nails, wears button-up blouses and tailored skirts, but her hair always slips from those damn clips - and there she goes saying "damn" again and her mama raised her better than that.

Her mama raised her better than to run off and marry a dark and wounded man who would never find a way out from under the thumb of his demons, and she sure as hell raised her better than to slip off her wedding ring and slip into a motel bed.

But her mama's gone and Winona's all grown up and the metal around her finger is heavier every time she puts it on. She's not perfect, but that's okay. She's never aspired to be.

She finds little comfort in that fact when she admits she's never been so flawed.

\--

Six years with Raylan and now six years with Gary and it really is a half dozen either way. She loves them both with her heart, but her head needs Gary and her gut wants Raylan and she's finding it impossible to reconcile the two.

It was never a fairytale romance. Not with Raylan and not with Gary. Neither one ever came anywhere close. But Raylan was bullets and storm clouds, and Gary was honest-to-god picket fences, and at least on paper the latter could be construed as adult and civil and something resembling a life.

She reminds herself of that as she sits in her car outside her house, _their house_ , smelling of sex and Raylan and betrayal. She pushes back the tiny voice in her head that tells her it's okay not to wash it off, it's okay to embrace it for a while. It's the same voice that told her to go to the motel, and even to marry Raylan in the first place. She never got anywhere good listening to that voice.

She opens the car door and steps out into the driveway. Above her, the sky is dark but clear. She pulls the cinch more tightly at her waist and wishes like hell it would rain.

\--

It goes about as well as she expects it to.

"I knew it! I _knew_ it! The second that man came back into town - he broke into our house for godsake!" Gary is pacing around the room, fists white with anger, and she's doing her best to stand up tall. "Who does that? I mean, who _does_ that? And you!" He whirls around to face her. "You! I should have known. Marriage vows have never meant much to you, have they?"

It stings, as was no doubt intended, and she finds herself recoiling.

"That's not fair." She says it, but her heart's not in it. She knows it's more than fair.

The look he gives her clearly says he knows it too.

\--

She's on the couch so she's nowhere near a digital clock, but she can still picture the large red numbers ticking by. She tugs the blanket up over her shoulders and sighs.

There's no rest for sinners, or no peace for the wicked or something like that. She's not sure the exact quote and that probably just adds to her sins. Though she's pretty sure that if she were truly wicked she'd be sleeping just fine.

It's the good in her that's keeping her up and she knows she'd better not quash it.

\--

"It says something about your lifestyle that you always answer your door with a gun."

Raylan raises an eyebrow and steps aside. "You come here to lecture me on my lifestyle choices? Because if we're doing any in-depth analysis I think you have a few issues that need to be addressed."

She steps into the motel room for the second time that night. "My issues don't require I keep myself armed."

He raises his other brow.

"Usually," she corrects.

"You going to step in far enough for me to close the door or do I need to put on a jacket?"

Two more steps and she's cleared the threshold, but she's reluctant to take it any further than that.

He closes the door turns to face her. After a few moments, when it becomes apparent that she's not going to speak, Raylan shakes his head and walks past her to the bed. He drops down onto it and drags a hand through his already disheveled hair.

"So?"

"I'm sorry."

He lets out a sigh and leans on his elbows. "Yeah, well, it takes two to -"

"But I know how you feel about me," she interrupts before biting down on her tongue. That wasn't what she'd intended to say, wasn't even close - but she supposes it's the truth and if he deserves anything (and he deserves more than that) it's the truth. "I know how you feel and I know what this," she gestures weakly to the bed, "must have meant to you and I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I hurt you."

He smiles that wry Raylan smile and shakes his head. "Well ain't that something. Here I thought you were the one with the conflicted emotions - the unresolved feelings, as they say - and all along it was me. Learn something new every day."

"Raylan -"

"No, really, I appreciate the heads-up."

"That's not what I -"

"I never was good enough for you, Winona, but I'm a hell of a lot better than you give me credit for."

She scrubs her face in her hands. "I know."

"Well you sure have a funny way of showing it."

"I love you."

"Well, hell, I think I know that by now, don't you?"

"I love him, too."

He pushes up off the bed. "Is there a point to all this?"

She drops her arms from where they've wrapped themselves up across her chest and closes her eyes. "I don't know. I don't know, Raylan."

She hears him push off the bed, hears soft footfalls and when she opens her eyes he's standing in front of her, all soft and calm and understanding.

He makes an aborted move to touch her. "You just wanted to tell me you're sorry."

"Yeah."

"Well, apology accepted."

The corner of her mouth turns up in a smile. "Good. I appreciate that."

"See?" He shrugs it off and returns to the bed. "Better than you give me credit for."

She nods and turns toward the door, looking over her shoulder as she makes contact with the handle. "Raylan?"

"Yeah?"

"I really do still owe you, huh?"

He kicks up his feet and drops his head on the pillow, closing his eyes as he nods. "Now more than ever."


End file.
